


Book of (Mostly) Lies

by darthkeyara



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Complete crackfic, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Humor, M/M, Sexual Humor, did I mention how many references there are?, from 2012, giftfic, numerous pop culture references, seriously there are so many
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-23 04:06:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3753886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darthkeyara/pseuds/darthkeyara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry finds the diary of a fellow classmate filled with bizarre stories about other classmates, and journal entries about him! Is this just the innocent writings of a conflicted lovelorn soul, or the works of a crazed, obsessed mind?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Book of (Mostly) Lies

**Author's Note:**

> This was a birthday gift to my best friend/roommate, written way back in 2012. I had originally posted this on FF.net, but removed it ages ago for personal reasons. I'm reposting it now by request, and because I think we all need a little laughter in our lives to counter all the wrongs this world is currently experiencing. Revised and edited from the original version, so if you've read this before, slight changes were made.

One would think by now that Harry Potter would have learnt not to pick up strange, untitled, journal like books found out and about in the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, especially when said book was written by a terribly troubled student. Obviously whoever wrote it must be insane, because Harry knew that things like that never happened on Hogwarts grounds.

He also knew everything about his best friends, Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley that anyone could possibly know about another human being without being said human beings themselves.

At least, he hoped he did. He was sure of it….

Of course there’s also the fact that the person who wrote “The Book of Made Up Stories About the Various Returning Eighth Year Students and their Friends” (at least, that’s what Harry called it in his head after he read several of the first few stories and asked the ones who were mentioned in the stories and still alive, if said stories were true or not) was someone he never thought would have such a beauti- I mean, disturbed mind.

Let’s backtrack to the moment of a lifetime when Harry laid eyes on the book that will change everything he ever thought about D…uh, the person who wrote the book.

The hallways of Hogwarts had been crowded more so than any other time in recent history. It was because during the Second Wizarding War the school had less than stellar subjects to learn from. Most of the subjects had also been illegal and/or morally and ethically wrong.

So anyway, back to the finding of the book. Harry was just walking leisurely with his aforementioned best friends in the bustling hallways of the fourth floor corridor heading to Defense Against the Dark Arts which had now become mandatory when he spotted it, tucked halfway underneath a tapestry depicting a huge mountain troll having an epic battle with a giant over who should eat the last hippogriff leg.

Thinking that he could live up to his heroic persona (that and he’s just a naturally good deed doer) he deviated from his previous heading to go pick up the book, find out who it belonged to and return it. End of story.  
….

o.O

….

Are you kidding? If it were that simple and boring and pointless, why would anyone bother writing it? *A la Umbridge. Hem hem, Twilight and Fifty Shades of Grey.

Ron spotted what Harry was about to do point zero three five seconds before Hermione did and asked, “Harry, what are you doing? We’re gonna be late for DADA!”

Hermione immediately chastised her boyfriend with, “We’re not going to be late, Ron! We still have, Tempus, oh.” At seeing the hovering wispy clock conjured from her wand, she stopped ranting. Ron had been correct. They had less than a minute before the clock tower rang in warning to be in class, or else.

So focused on his potential good deed, Harry heard neither of his friends, and crouched down to pick up the book.

Absolutely nothing happened to him as he touched the book. No shiver ran up his spine, his hand didn’t suddenly burn or get amputated, he didn’t start screaming in agony, nothing. But Hermione started verbally accosting him as if any one of those things did happen.

“What do you think you’re doing!?” Hermione screeched as loudly as she could, causing nearly everyone in the hallway to stop walking to watch what she was screeching about. “Don’t you remember the last time you picked up some strange book? First you…”

We the audience knows exactly what happened the last time Harry picked up some strange book. It was way back in sixth year when Harry didn’t think he would be taking Potions class, when out of nowhere McGonagall was like “Yo, Harry, you’re gonna be an Auror” and whisked him off to class because as the professor of Transfiguration and not being in anyway related to Harry or even being his guardian, she totally has the authority to say where he can go to class.

So not being properly supplied with the appropriate supplies for said class, he unquestionably skipped his merry way to class (along with Ron, but he’s not important enough to be worth mentioning, this time at least) and was told to grab a Potions textbook by the new/old Professor Slughorn. With the gods smiling down on his bird’s nest like head, he just so happened to pick up the ratty, 30 odd years old book filled to the brim with the scribblings of Professor Snape’s younger self nicknamed “The Half-Blood Prince”.

Following the advice of handwritten in notes and not the printed words of the book itself, Harry aced all his classes with the unfortunate side effect of earning envy from everyone else in the class. But other than helpful tips in Potion making, there were also spells invented by Snape himself written in the margins. Not having descriptors on some of the incantations, Harry decides to test them out on friends and enemies alike, because yelling out unknown spells on friends and/or enemies that could do any number of things to them (like maybe kill/maim/etc) is super smart and not dangerous at all.

Yet slicing open the chest of someone Harry positively loathed with every fiber of his being (at the time) after finding him crying in a girl’s bathroom can put a damper on his enthusiasm for his nifty little guidebook to all things Potions. That and he would have gotten into trouble if Snape had discovered Harry’s love for the cheat book. So not being selfish or cowardly at all *insert sarcasm here* Harry runs away to hide the book, never to see it again.

“Um, Hermione?” Harry interrupts Hermione in the middle of her rant.

“What Harry?” she asks breathlessly.

“Not only did the bell ring five minutes ago, but you said that Tom Riddle’s diary was the last strange book I picked up…it wasn’t. It was the Half-Blooded Prince’s book.”

You all thought Hermione’s rant was about that didn’t you? BAZINGA! It wasn’t.

“Oops?” Hermione said, adding a lilt at the end to make it sound like a question. But then…

“Holy hand grenade, we’re late for class!” Ron yelled. As one, they sprinted through the now cleared hallway. Neither Ron nor Hermione noticed Harry shove the book into his robe pocket.

*.*.*.*

Later that night as Harry was disrobing for bed, he realized his school robe was one-quarter of a pound heavier than it usually was. Checking the pockets, his hand found the book.

He had completely forgotten about it in the excitement of getting to DADA on time and the class itself, which had him nearly coming in his pants every time he attended that class. He didn’t know why he felt that way…no wait. He did but he just decided to suppress the thought until a more appropriate time, like further into this story.

Wanting to see what was in the book he had picked up, he flopped down on his bed, shut the curtains, and lit the candle sconce above his head with his wand.

He turned to the first page and began to read the neat yet slightly loopy handwriting…

_Colin Creevey was so excited to find out all the strange things he could do as a child was actually magic! At first his parents were like “Whoa”, but then he got his Hogwarts letter and all of them were like “Whoa!”And then when he finally got to the school itself, he was like “Whoa…”_

_It was during his very first trip to Diagon Alley that he tried to find out everything he could about the Wizarding World. So at Flourish and Blotts, he pulled a Hermione Granger and attempted to read as much as he possibly could without his eyes burning._

_But rather than memorizing spells for the first year at Hogwarts, he researched famous people who were still alive._

_All his life he wished to follow in his uncle’s footsteps as a celebrity photographer. He always had his camera looped around his neck just in case he happened to stumble across someone worth photographing like Elton John or the Queen. He figured there must be people like that in the Wizarding World._

_So after asking one of the workers in the book shop if there were popular witches and wizards that were worth talking about and having pictures of, he answered with:_

_“Well, there is someone about a year older than you who goes to Hogwarts who’s famous. His name’s Harry Potter.”_

_Fascinated that someone with such a plebian name could be famous, he asked why Harry Potter was famous if he wasn’t even a teenager yet. Boy, did he get an earful._

_On September 1 whilst on the Hogwarts Express, he searched up and down the train, desperately hoping to catch a glimpse of the boy wizard/hero he had yet to see. Every time he entered a different compartment, he would snap a picture with his camera the instant he opened the door, and ask sheepishly, “Harry Potter?”_

_The startled students in the compartments would simply shake their heads, or yell, or throw spells and/or random objects at him for disturbing them. He knew he should have stopped, but he couldn’t help himself._

_About halfway through the train, he had no choice but to stop, for inside was one of the prettiest blonde haired boys he had ever seen in his entire life sandwiched between two of the ugliest._

_Because the only picture of Harry Potter had been taken when he was still a bald baby, Colin thought to himself, This is him! I finally get to meet the third most famous wizard ever, in the past twelve years or so._

_So doing what he had been doing through twenty train compartments, he took the blonde’s picture and asked breathlessly, “Harry Potter?”_

_A look passed between the blonde and other two boys that Colin wouldn’t understand until much later._

_“Yes, may I ask who you are and why you’re taking pictures of me and my friends?” the blonde drawled._

_Colin started jumping up and down, squealing, “Oh my gosh, it’s you! It’s really, really you! Thank you!” Then he ran to the blonde who he thought was Harry and hugged him tightly._

_‘Harry’ tensed for a few seconds before awkwardly patting Colin on the back._

_“And you’re thanking me, why?”_

_Colin pulled back in shock._

_“Why? Only because if it wasn’t for you, all of us Muggleborns wouldn’t be here. We’d be either dead or slaves to You-Know-Who,” Colin repeated word for word from the shopkeeper at Flourish and Blotts._

_‘Harry’s’ nose crinkled up in what appeared to be disgust, but at the time Colin thought it was just because he had an itch on said perfectly symmetrical ._

_“You’re welcome.”_

_After a moment’s pause with Colin staring at ‘Harry’ for a few seconds, he noticed something rather odd._

_“Where’s your scar?” he blurted out._

_“You have heard of magic, haven’t you? It’s called a glamour. I wear it because I don’t like crazed, obsessed fans gawking at it all day long,” ‘Harry’ drawled with a hint of a sneer._

_Colin didn’t seem to know when to take a hint._

_“Can I see it?” he asked eagerly._

_“Look, you’re nice and all, but I have more friends coming and they don’t take kindly to people clinging to me for every ounce of my attention. So…”_

_Now Colin got the hint. Hurt and a bit confused as to why Harry was being a big meanie to him, Colin left to sulk in a compartment all by himself. He cried. Like, a lot._

_When he finally got around to the Sorting Ceremony, he was anxious about which house he was to be Sorted into. While some tall, stern looking witch was reading names from a scroll Colin glanced around at the Great Hall._

_He saw the banners over the four tables depicting each house of Hogwarts: Gryffindor: who appeared to be a rowdy and overexcited bunch, Ravenclaw: all of them stiff backed and paying a little too much attention to what was going on, Hufflepuff: staring glassy eyed and dazed with faint smiles gracing their faces, and finally Slytherin: students who all looked perfectly normal, except for the odd sullen face or two. That’s when Colin saw the blonde from the train._

_‘Wait a second I thought Harry Potter was in Gryffindor house?’_

Harry turned the page expecting to find out what Colin’s reaction was when he saw something quite different instead. It seemed to be an actual diary entry.

**You don’t know her at all, do you? I bet five years from now you’ll never know. She hates poetry. She hates writing it, and definitely loathes hearing it. Just ask any of her numerous brothers. You’ll never know that the Valentine that those stupid Cupid things Lockhart had parading around the school wasn’t from her. It was from me. And if I ever told you, you’d laugh in my face. I left myself vulnerable to you once, I won’t make that mistake ever again. Besides, you’re probably too stupid to realize the Weasleys never call ‘Voldemort’ ‘The Dark Lord’.**

Bewildered at that little paragraph, Harry was more anxious about the story of Colin’s hero worshipping of him. Unfortunately, Colin was dead, so that left only one person to ask if what he just read was true or not: Draco Malfoy, because who else was blonde and in Slytherin House, sneered, and had two ugly people follow him around?

Harry and Malfoy had this unspoken agreement to pretend the other one didn’t exist. It was going well so far, because like everything else between them it was like a competition to see who would be forced to speak to the other first. And Harry did not want to lose. But Harry had to know if what he read about Colin was true or not. He groaned in annoyance.

“Oi! If you want some personal alone time put up a silencing charm next time!” One of his dorm mates called out.

“I was groaning in _annoyance_ Seamus! Couldn’t you tell?” Harry exclaimed sullenly.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Knowing there was no convincing the Irishman, he tucked the diary/journal/book under his pillow, waved his wand to put out the lights, and went to sleep.

*.*.*.*

The next day was a Saturday, so Harry had no clue what time the Slytherin git would be making his appearance at breakfast. So instead of cornering Malfoy in the Great Hall, he decided to wait until the afternoon to whip out his Marauder’s Map and do some hunting like a nicer, G-rated version of sixth year.

Happiness flooded him the second his eyes spotted the name, then immediately turned to slight disappointment. He saw Malfoy’s dot in the library, but sadly said dot was placed right next to one that declared itself as being ‘Pansy Parkinson’.

However he felt about that dumb bimbo, his curiosity overwhelmed his fiery dislike for the girl, and he swiftly made his way to their location.

Arriving at destination, he noticed that Malfoy hadn’t looked up at his approach but Parkinson did, with a minor glare.  
Neither one of the Slytherins said anything so it was up to him to do so. Summoning up his resolve, he broke the awkward silence before it continued any further in Awkward Turtle land.

“Malfoy.”

The next moment stretched into forever, until something really strange happened. Malfoy jumped out of his seat in celebration, eyes staring wide at Pansy in jubilation.

“Ha! Ha, I told you so, Pansy! You said that I would crack under the pressure of the guilt of not having apologized to him yet, and then you just had to make that stupid bet and then all of the returning Eighth years had to go and get a pool running on what would happen first: Potter coming to me demanding one, or me crawling to him begging for forgiveness. So that’ll be a hundred Galleons!”

Harry had been almost tempted to say that he hadn’t come over for what Malfoy thought he came over to demand, but he held himself back. The look on Pansy’s face was something that he didn’t want to ruin with the truth.

“But, but, where am I supposed to get that kind of money?” she gaped in horror.

“Should have thought of that before making the bet,” Malfoy said with a smirk.

Pansy scoffed, grabbed her books, and stormed off, leaving Malfoy and Harry in another awkward turtle.

“Uh,” Harry began to say.

“Let me guess, you’re not here for an apology or some shite like that, are you?” Malfoy interrupted.

“As utterly fantastic as that would be, no.”

Malfoy sat back down, deflating in defeat at the thought of not having won the bet between himself and Pansy.

“Um, I won’t tell her if that’s what you’re worried about,” Harry said reassuringly.

Malfoy arched his left eyebrow in obvious disbelief as Harry sat down in the chair opposite him.

“What do you want?” Malfoy asked monotonously.

“Just information, if that’s okay.”

“About what?”

“Colin Creevey.”

A frown marred Malfoy’s pretty, not so ferret face.

“I have not now nor have I ever killed Colin Creevey,” Malfoy answered the non-existent question.

“That’s not what I was going to ask,” Harry nearly whined. “I was going to ask where and when you first met him.”

Malfoy smiled in remembrance. “Oh. It was during the first week of second year. I remember him taking a load of pictures of you and I pretended I wanted one just so I could see the expression on his face when I set it on fire. It was legen- wait for it……………DARY! Ah, good times.”

Harry was so hypnotized by that smile he almost completely missed the answer. He shook himself out of his stupor.

“Okay, so you didn’t meet him on the train pretending to be me just after he snapped a picture of you, Crabbe, and Goyle?”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“No,” Malfoy said after their mini staring contest.

Harry stood so quickly, he nearly sent his chair flying. He began to leave, eager to read some more of the book.

“Thanks, Malfoy!” Harry called over his shoulder.

*.*.*.*

The next hour saw Harry sitting in the Gryffindor Common Room this time to read some more of the book. The story seemed to have been written during third year, judging by the date and the strange content within….

_Millicent was calmly reciting Charms incantations for practice when she noticed Pansy enter the Common Room._

_“Hey P-pansy?” she called out with a waver in her voice._

_“What?” Pansy asked, halting her steps to a complete stop._

_“Pansy, whatever you do, do not look down,” Millicent ordered._

_Panicking at the tone of Millie’s voice, Pansy lifted her chin and sent her gaze upwards to not give in to the urge of looking down._

_“Oh fuck, what is it? What’s wrong?”_

_Millie leaned forward and squinted at Pansy’s chest._

_“Keep calm and don’t move. There’s something on you.”_

_Following her advice, Pansy did as she was told. But she couldn’t help her quickened breathing which caused her chest to move more._

_“What is it? What’s on me?” Pansy practically squealed in fear._

_“They-they’re kind of big and roundish,” Millie began to describe. She hesitated._

_“‘They’re?’ As in there is more than one of these…things?”_

_Millie visibly gulped. “Yes. There are actually two of them.”_

_“Oh no! What are they?” Pansy started to twitch her arms uncontrollably, as if she wanted to swipe at her chest to rid herself of the things that were on there._

_“I don’t know. They’re round and fleshy looking. They each have one eye in the center, and they don’t seem to have any other distinguishing markings or features….I think,” Millie went on describing._

_“Do they look… dangerous?”_

_“I personally wouldn’t know. But I think I know what they’re called by the male gender of our species…”_

_Utterly clueless, Pansy whispered, “You know what they’re called?”_

_“Yes. Boys like to call them ‘boobs’,” Millie answered with a poker face._

_Pansy, finally catching on, glanced down at her chest. There was nothing on her chest except her white shirt, but bulging out were her B cupped sized breasts supported by a bra underneath it._

_Unable to keep a straight face, Millie burst out laughing, falling to the back of the chair and clutching her stomach._

_Pure, unadulterated fury flooded Pansy’s veins. She never felt more foolish in her entire life._

_“I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!” she yelled at the top of her lungs, drawing the attention of a couple of 6th years who had been studying together in the far corner of the Slytherin Common Room._

_Millie bolted out of her chair as Pansy came advancing on her with wand drawn and aimed at Millie’s head._

_“I’m going to curse you so bad your descendents will have the effects!”_

_Pansy took a deep breath and cast the nastiest curse she could think of._

“Ab-"

Harry turned the page thinking the rest of the curse was on the other side, but he was left wanting for whoever wrote this journal didn’t finish this story.

Instead what he got was another diary entry.

**Sometimes I think I hate you so much that I have the strongest urge to Transfigure you into a flea, put you in a box within a box, owl mail it to myself and then SMASH IT WITH A HAMMER! Yet at other times I just want to hold you and cradle you against me so that you don’t have anything to worry about, like homicidal Godfathers.**

Harry had a strange foreshadow-y feeling that further journal entries were going to be about him.

He was about to go get his Marauder’s Map that he had placed into his trunk thinking he wasn’t going to need it for the rest of the day, when Ron and Hermione came waltzing through the portrait entrance into the Gryffindor Common Room.

“Hiya, Harry! Watcha doin’?” Ron asked jubilantly.

Harry smiled. “Just a bit of light reading,” he answered, mimicking Hermione’s voice eerily accurately.

“Gah! I told you to never do that, Harry!” Hermione exclaimed.

Harry muttered an apology in his normal voice as he stealthily shoved the book into his robe pocket.

But his friends caught the movement since they were standing right there while looking directly at Harry and they both could see well enough without eyeglasses, unlike some whose glasses are their eyes and without them they would be essentially blind.

Ron and Hermione sat on either side of Harry, basically trapping him.

“Is that the book you found the other day?” asked Ron.

“Maybe.”

“Haaaaaarry! What if it’s dangerous? What if it wants to eat your soul?” whined Hermione loudly in Harry’s right ear.

“It’s not going to eat my soul! It’s just some diary a crazy fangirl wrote, making up stories about our friends and classmates, and writing creepy entries about me.”

“‘Creepy entries’?”

Harry withdrew the book.

“Here, read the first one,” Harry said, handing the book over to Ron.

Eight minutes later, Ron finished the first story and diary entry. He would have passed the book over to Hermione, but held back in case she ran away screaming that the book would try to turn her to the dark side. So he handed it back to Harry instead while Hermione leaned away from it.

“Jeebus Albert Wesker Crust, I completely forgot that my sister totally hates poetry!” Ron said, facepalming himself.

“You should have had a V8,” Harry deadpanned.

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked.

“If you read it, you’ll find out,” Ron said in a singsong tone.

Hermione winced, and slowly held her hand out like she was about to touch some wild, vicious animal. When nothing happened, she flipped open the brown leather cover and opened to the first page.

After she read the first story and diary entry, her eyes bugged out.

“Did Malfoy really pretend to be you?”

Harry shook his head. “No, I already asked him. He said he met Colin for the first time here, at Hogwarts.”

Both Ron and Hermione groaned in despair at hearing that.

“What?” asked Harry, startled by his friends’ expressions.

“Did you speak to him first?” asked Ron hesitantly.

Sighing, Harry answered, “Yes.”

Hermione pouted while Ron whooped and jumped into the air, fist pumping.

“Let me guess, Hermione owes you insert amount of money here for the pool you have running on me and Malfoy of who will speak to the other first?”

“Yup, and now ‘Mione owes me five galleons.”

“Hang on, I have to go get my purse in the girl’s dorm,” stated Hermione, leaving the book on the chair she just vacated.

Harry got up as well, grabbing the book with the intention of going to the boy’s dorm to get his Invisibility Cloak before Ron stopped him.

“Where are you going?”

“I have to go hunt down Parkinson to make sure this story is as fictional as the first one.”

“What about Ginny?”

Harry furrowed his brow in confusion.

“What about her?”

“Are you two getting back together?”

“Not with the way she’s been going at it with Dean, no,” Harry answered nonchalantly.

“Don’t you want her back?”

“No,” Harry said simply and skedaddled before he was interrogated by Ron some more.

Ron gaped at Harry’s retreating backside. He just couldn’t wrap his mind around his best friend and sister not being together.

Of course we could delve further into Ronald Bilius Weasley’s psyche as to why he imagined Harry and Ginny would be the perfect couple, but he’s not the main  
character is he? That would be like a sequel starring the sidekick with the real hero nowhere in sight. Harry=Jason Bourne, Ron= that guy who played Hawkeye. Simple as that.

*.*.*.*

Harry felt a wicked bad déjà vu as he scanned his magical map for certain Slytherins to stalk for information. Only this time it was for the prissy Pansy Parkinson rather than the bodacious blonde Draco Malfoy he was looking for.

He saw them both together in a random room on a random floor. Invisibility Cloak on, he ran to see what they were up to and also why their dots were so close together.

Upon arrival, he saw that the door was open and that they were talking. Or at least it sounded like they were talking. Malfoy was sitting on top of a student’s desk while Parkinson sat in a chair in front of him. He was brushing her hair.

“- Think of it as thrift, as a gift, if you get my drift. Seems an awful waste, I mean with the price of meat what it is. When you get it, if you get it,” Pansy was saying.

Malfoy then appeared to have a metaphorical light bulb shine over his already shiny head from the glorious silky blonde strands that Harry desperately wanted to-

“Ah!” Malfoy’s exclamation cut off Harry’s thought before it became awkward for his tight skinny jeans.

“Good, you got it.” Pansy suddenly sat up and began to pace. “Take for instance Mrs. Mooney and her pie shop: business never better using only pussycats and toast. Now, a pussy’s good for maybe six or seven at the most, and I’m sure they can’t compare as far as taste.”

Now here’s where things got really confusing for Harry, for Malfoy then got up and called Parkinson something that was definitely not her name.

“Mrs. Lovett! What a charming notion, eminently practical and yet appropriate as always!”

“Think about it.”

“Mrs. Lovett, how I’ve lived all these years, I’ll never know. How delectable, also undetectable.”

“Lots of other gentlemen will soon be coming for a shave, won’t they? Think of all them pies!”

“How choice, how rare! For what’s the sound of the world out there?”

“What Mr. Todd? What Mr. Todd, what is that sound?”

Malfoy then gestured with his hand around the room.

“Those crunching noises pervading the air!”

Pansy then seemed to get excited over what Malfoy was implying.

“Yes, yes! All around!”

“It’s man devouring man, my dear.” At that point Malfoy and Parkinson faced each other and said at the same time: “And who are we to deny it in here?”

It was when Parkinson pretended to take a pie out of an imaginary oven did Harry finally realize what was going on. It was almost like the two infamous Slytherins were rehearsing a scene from a play. It continued on about how the pies would be filled with people who had various occupations that would somehow influence the flavor of the said pies. It seemed to end when Malfoy took Parkinson in hand to do a little waltz around the empty classroom saying they wouldn’t discriminate anyone from becoming pies.

Once their dialogue came to an end, they resumed their previous positions that Harry first spied them having.

“Gods, I missed doing that,” sighed Pansy. “Do you think we can do something like that for the others? Like what we used to do before things started getting bad?”

“I don’t know Potsy, I’ll have to think about it.”

 _Potsy?_ Harry repeated in his brain.

“Please Drarry? It’ll be so much fun. And we could all use a good laugh again. Just one, before we finally leave this place for good?”

_Drarry?_

“I said I’ll think about it,” Malfoy said sternly.

Harry decided now was as good a time as ever to reveal himself. He took off his cloak and knocked on the open door. Malfoy and Parkinson glanced up at the same time and froze in their minute movements, like deer caught in headlights.

“Um, sorry if I’m interrupting anything,” Harry began awkwardly.

“What do you want Potter?” Parkinson asked rudely.

“Just to ask you something,” said Harry, not wanting to start a yelling match or fight. He ignored Malfoy for the time being.

“Then speak it and I may just choose to answer it,” she sneered.

“Did you ever get into a fight with Bulstrode about her tricking you into thinking there were vicious creatures on your chest when in fact they were actually your um, breasts? Perhaps in third year?”

“Where the fuck would you hear of something like that having ever happened?” asked Parkinson.

“Did it happen or not?”

“No.”

Satisfied with the answer, Harry gave a tiny smile.

“K, thanks, bye!”

*.*.*.*

And once more with feeling Harry was reading yet another story, seemingly skipping fourth year and straight to fifth....

_Luna Lovegood was absolutely the strangest girl Neville Longbottom had ever met. Many a time upon his first meeting with the odd Ravenclaw, she often spoke of creatures not even the eldest of wizards, such as Albus Dumbledore, have ever heard of._

_Neville found himself continuously wondering why she would give normal everyday explanations for things like headaches a magical reason for being caused by invisible, non-existent animals._

_The more he got to know her, the more he realized why she acted the way she did. That and she told him herself. After her mother died, Luna became very depressed. To cheer her up, her father would tell her grand tales of the wonderful creatures he would one day prove existed to the Wizarding World. He would tell her of all the creatures he discovered, making sure to add humorous anecdotes to liven up the mood whether they were true or not._

_The more they got to know each other, the closer they got. It wasn’t until after yet another secret Defense club meeting that Neville decided to take things even further. But Luna beat him to the punch._

_“Neville, I really like you as a friend, but I feel we could never be more than that. However, I would like to propose that we have sex to make sure we’re not meant to be and to also please the Nargles.”_

_“Okay!”_

Harry stopped reading at that point. He did not want to picture those two going at it like bunnies, fiction or not. He skipped over a couple of pages to see if there would be a diary entry possibly written around fifth year. He wasn’t disappointed.

**You think you’re so great inviting everyone but the Slytherins to your little illegal club to learn real Defense, leaving us in the dark. That’s what you and the old fool think don’t you? That all Slytherins are evil and future Death Eaters? And you probably don’t even wonder why we don’t come to you for help. You’re just as prejudiced as all the other Houses. At least we don’t try to pretend we’re not prejudiced. The Hufflepuffs just smile and nod at everything around them, not bothering to form their own opinions on anything. Ravenclaws don’t believe anything unless it’s in a book labeled under non-fiction. Don’t even get me started on Gryffindors. Did you know that lions, especially the males, will kill their own young once they become old enough to be alpha males themselves, to insure they don’t take over the pride in case they don’t leave soon enough? At least with snakes you know which ones are venomous and which ones are perfectly harmless. But you never know with lions. Just remember, it was a lion that betrayed you and your family, and a snake that brought you back. Because the great Dumbledore himself was in Slytherin. Everyone is capable of betraying another, but the worst thing to do is to betray yourself.**

Harry stared gob smacked at this diary entry. So he had a fangirl in Slytherin. He never thought he would see the day when he would have someone obsessed with him from that house. Not including Malfoy. That was just pure hatred.

He wished it wasn’t.

*.*.*.*

The next day in the first few minutes before the beginning of Herbology, Harry sat next to Neville.

“Did you lose your virginity to Luna in fifth year?” Harry whispered to him before Professor Sprout began her lecture.

“What?! No! That’s just…weird! No, Luna and I are just friends. And I’m still a virgin. And I’m dating Hannah.”

*.*.*.*

“Lavender, you and the Patil twins didn’t have hot lesbian, borderline twincest sex a couple of years ago, did you?”

His ears were still ringing five hours later after the huge slap to the face he received from asking that. He also figured that it was a huge, resounding ‘no’.

*.*.*.*

There was one story that involved Voldemort, Sauron, and Emperor Palpatine sitting in a bar comparing Dark Side notes, and another with Voldemort and Dumbledore playing chess while they both held strings attached to a dangling Harry puppet, but Harry skipped over those, wanting to get to the juicy, porny goodness that lied ahead.

*That evening*

“Ron, Hermione, did we have a three way in sixth year in the hopes it would get my mind off of things and a certain blonde only to discover it was the worst thing we could have ever done, so you guys erased my memory of it?”

“Harry,” Ron began, but couldn’t seem to find the appropriate words. Good thing he wasn’t a Hufflepuff, because Hufflepuffs are supposed to be particularly good finders.

“We don’t think that you reading all of these ridiculous stories are good for you! Lavender could have broken your jaw! And the fact that you’re sitting right here asking us if we…did…that, it’s just worrisome. So, hand over the book Harry.”

“What, no! What are you going to do with it? You don’t even know who it really belongs to,” Harry said, panicking and clutching the book to his chest while rocking back and forth.

“We’ll bring it to each House prefect and ask them to ask their respective house members if anyone’s missing their diary,” Ron said logically. ‘Ron said logically’ sounds wrong, doesn’t it? It was bound to happen sometime.

“Just one more story! Please? I swear I’ll give it to you guys tomorrow so you can do what you just said you would. Pleeeeeeeeaaaaaase?” Harry drew out the last ‘please’, lowered his bottom lip, and made his eyes go all ‘puppy dog’.

“Fine! Have it your way!” Hermione huffed.

“Bada ba ba ba, I’m loving it! Thanks guys!”

Harry then proceeded to the boy’s bathroom, changed into his pyjamas which only consisted of his tight black briefs, crawled into his bed, shut the curtains, and put up a Muffliato, just in case.

He turned to the page he left off at expecting another story about even more of his classmates and their wild crazy sex that the writer seemed fixated writing about after fifth year, but he came across another diary entry, all by its lonesome, dated December 16, 1996.

_I lay in my bed after an exhausting day of classes, Quidditch practice, and homework. I’ve just gotten done preparing for sleep in all but my mind. It is still far too active for my tastes. I only know of one thing to calm my dark, chaotic thoughts._

_I bring my left hand up to my face, lightly grazing my fingertips along my jaw line, then to my lips. I use my right hand to gently tug at my earlobe, and trace the carotid, applying firmer pressure with my nail digging along it._

_I bring both my hands to my bare chest as mirror images, rubbing and twisting my nipples. I let out an enamored gasp, glad that none of my dorm mates are in the room to hear it. I bring my left hand back up to pull at my hair as my right ventures ever lower to the one place that is yearning for my touch._

_My eight and three-quarter inch cock is now fully erect and resting against the flat, smooth panes of my stomach. My right hand bypasses it to trail against the defined ‘v’ of my waist and hips, then to cup my aching testicles._

_My back arches slightly off the bed, even though I haven’t gotten to the main event yet. I pull even harder at my blonde strands, but it isn’t enough. I finally give in and graze my finger along the vein on my cock all the way to the head. I use my thumb to smear the pre-come steadily leaking from the slit._

_I bring the fingers of my left hand to my mouth, and place my index finger into my mouth, wetting it with my saliva. I start to slowly pump my throbbing cock as I bring my knees up and spread my legs. I bring my coated finger to my quivering hole and ease it in, one knuckle at a time. I repeat the action with my other fingers, not including my thumb. I fuck myself with four fingers occasionally nudging my prostate, but not too many times. I don’t want to come just yet._

_I feel eyes on me, watching me from the shadows even though I know no one is supposed to be here. I know it’s you. You’re the only one I can think of that could get in here no problem with that special cloak of yours. But that doesn’t stop me from enjoying my time alone. In fact, I knew you were here all along, causing my thoughts to run rampant, preventing sleep to come to me. You’ve always managed to do that to me, ever since we were eleven years old._

_“Harry,” I dare to call out, hoping against hope doing so doesn’t send you running._

_All it does is cause a gasp of your own to escape. I smile, not smirk. Smile._

_“It’s not fair, you seeing me like this when I can’t see you,” I say, not bothering to cease the movement of my hands._

_In an act of pure Gryffindor behaviour, you remove your cloak and stare unabashedly with those bright emerald eyes into my silver orbs. A telepathic agreement made, you begin to remove more than just your cloak._

_I remove the fingers from my arse and grip the base of my cock to prevent myself from coming as I watch you slip off your trainers with your feet, hands undoing the button of your Muggle trousers. I can’t help but quietly groan as you pull them down, revealing the fact that you go commando. I’m relieved to see your wonderful cock is erect. I can see that it’s about the same length as mine, perhaps a little thicker. Once that’s completed, you reach for the top button of your shirt._

_“Stop,” I command. You look at me in confusion._

_“Come here,” I say to stop you from thinking I don’t want this._

_You do as I ask unquestionably until you’re at the foot of my bed. I sit up to change my position so that I’m on my knees on the bed in front of you. I reach out to resume the unbuttoning of your shirt. For each one I undo, I kiss, nibble and lick at the fair flesh that is slowly being exposed at my actions._

_Both of our breathing quickens in anticipation of what we’re doing. It’s so sudden, so forbidden. I take your shirt off upon finishing unbuttoning you. You can’t restrain yourself any longer it seems as your hand darts out like lightning to fist my hair as you crash our lips together._

_It would be foolish at this point to try to describe what you taste like. Girls would spout things like chocolate or strawberries, but for that to happen, you would have to have just eaten some. Instead, you taste like salt, copper and sweat._

_You push me back further up the bed and lay yourself directly on top of me, our cocks pressing. We both thrust our hips at the contact and moan._

_“I need to be inside you,” you whisper._

_“You already are. You haunt my every waking moment, and even in my dreams. You’re always inside of me, mind and soul. Now I offer my body to do as you please.”_

_You press your lips on mine once more, kissing me with all your passion, mapping my mouth with your sweetly flavoured tongue. You place your hand on my thigh, telling me to wrap my legs around your slim yet masculine waist. I do so, removing my hands from your shoulders to cup the cheeks of your mildly plump arse._

_You remove yourself from my mouth only to begin sucking harshly on my neck, then biting me. I scream out in ecstasy at the thought of me bearing your mark on my skin, claiming me. As you do this, you reach down to your cock to guide it to my well prepared hole._

_But then you hesitate._

_“Don’t we need lubricant to make it easier for you?”_

_I shake my head in refusal._

_“No, I want to feel every inch of you as you are with only your pre-come lubing me.”_

_Actions speak louder than any words you may have spoken as you place your swollen member in me without stopping until you can’t go in any further._

_“Draco-”_

Harry sat up so fast in his bed, he nearly gave himself whiplash. He knew when he began reading that this wasn’t like all of the other stories. By the tone and the point of view it was more like a journal entry. He just couldn’t believe it was Malfoy who wrote all this. He continued on anyway.

_“Draco, you feel amazing,” you whisper in my ear as you slowly start to piston your hips._

_“I love you so much,” I dare to admit out loud._

_You stop your movements all for but a moment, until you’re fucking me with every ounce of passion in you. You gaze deep into my eyes, my soul, and I know that you feel the same way too._

_Somehow sensing my near completion, you grab my cock, pumping it to the same rhythm of our love making, and when I come, it’s with you._

**_I’m totally and completely gay and possibly heavily in lust with Malfoy,_** Harry admitted, taking the advice of one of the journal entries about not betraying and lying to himself. Resistance was futile.

Finished with the hottest story he ever read so far, he reached what seemed to be a poem about his adventures at Hogwarts.

_There once was a boy named Harry, destined to be a star._

_His parents were killed by Voldemort, who gave him a lightning scar._

_Yo Harry, you’re a Wizard!_

_Harry goes to Hogwarts, he meets Ron and Hermione, McGonagall requires he play for Gryffindor_

_Draco is a daddy’s boy, Quirrell becomes unemployed, the Sorcerer’s Stone is destroyed by Dumbledore._

_Ron breaks his wand, now Ginny’s gone and Harry’s in mortal danger._

_Tom Riddle hides his snake inside his ginormous secret chamber._

_Harry blows up Aunt Marge, the Dementors come and take charge. Lupin is a wolf, the rat’s a man and now the Prisoner is at large._

_They use time travel so they can save the Prisoner of Azkaban, who just so happens to be Harry’s godfather, I don’t really get it either._

_Harry gets put in the Triwizard Tournament with dragons and mermaids. Oh no! Cedric Diggory gets slain! He’s back._

_Harry, Harry, it’s getting scary. Voldemort’s back and now you’re a revolutionary, Harry._

_Dumbledore, Dumbledore, why is he ignoring your CONSTANT ATTEMPS TO CONTACT HIM?_

_He is forced to leave the school, Umbridge arrives, Draco’s a tool._

_Kids break into the Ministry; Sirius Black is dead as can be!_

_Oh, split your soul, seven parts of a whole. They’re HORCRUXES! It’s Dumbledore’s end._

_There once was a boy named Harry, who constantly conquered death._

_But in one final duel between good and bad, he may take his final breath…_

“Whoa. Wait, how does he know all this?!” Harry asked the bed curtains. They fluttered in a mock response.

He turned the pages yet again, but came across blank parchment until he reached the very end. There, upside down and ingrained on the leather of the back cover was a name of the book and the owner.

He flipped it upside down. It read: ‘Draco Abraxas Malfoy owns this: The Book of (Mostly) Lies.’

It was confirmed. The book belonged to the one who’s had him nearly coming in his pants every time he went to DADA class. The way Draco moved and worked his magic was so gorgeous, and the fierce determination he showed to prove he wasn’t a bad boy had Harry wondering what he would look like in the throes of passion. He needed to know.

Harry rushed getting dressed, accidentally putting a trainer on the wrong foot, ran out almost forgetting his Invisibility Cloak, the book, and his map.  
He had to hunt down Malfoy, grab him by the throat and fuck him senseless. And possibly ask him to marry him, because why not?

*.*.*.*

He stood outside the Slytherin entrance under his cloak, map in hand and the book in pocket. He saw that the whole of the Slytherin students were crowded in the Common Room but for two: Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson.

They came around the corner and what he saw had his jaw drop, for Malfoy had black hair, glasses, a lightning bolt drawn on his forehead and he was wearing Muggle clothes.

Parkinson had long red hair with a bow in it and freckles on her face. She looked eerily like Ginny.

“Theo better have everything set up or else this isn’t going to work right,” Malfoy muttered angrily.

“He will, don’t worry. Okay, kowabunga.”

That was apparently the password for the entrance to Slytherin House for the portal opened. Harry slipped in after them, bypassing the hanging black curtain that reached the floor and was blocking most of the Common Room. Malfoy and Parkinson stopped, staying behind the black curtain. Harry went to join the massive audience as a silent, invisible spectator.

Nonexistent crickets chirped.

‘Harry’ and ‘Ginny’ got into position and the black curtain moved to the side, revealing them. Then the scene began with Malfoy deepening his voice and pronouncing his words like Harry. Parkinson stayed still with a blank expression on her face. Malfoy was standing to the right of ‘Ginny’.

“Ginny! You’re so hot! You’re like a stove; you’re like a zesty pepper. I feel this connection. I don’t what it is about you. I feel like you’re my best friend. My heart best friend. You’re so beautiful like a Thomas Kinkade painting. I’m so into you! Hey don’t move; I’ll be right back.”

‘Harry’ went behind the black curtain and it moved on its own, temporarily obscuring them both. When they appeared again, Parkinson had short hair and the bow was gone. Malfoy was now to the left of Parkinson.

“Hey Ron,” ‘Harry’ began. “I was just with your sister. She’s so hot Ron! Heads up, I’m gonna date your sister.”

“Oh that’s really wonderful-” ‘Ron’ said in a high pitched, prepubescent sounding voice.

“I feel bad for you, Ron. It’s like you probably don’t even know how hot your sister is. She’s really hot.”

“I don’t know what-”

“I’m going to make out with your sister tonight, gonna French it up! I don’t need your approval!”

“I fully support you-” ‘Ron’ tried to say before ‘Harry’ went back behind the curtain. It moved once again to the other side with Parkinson as ‘Ginny’ once more.

“Oh Ginny, good God girl! I can’t get you out of my mind! Your freckles drive me wild, you know that? Oh and that hair…I was just thinking, you know what would be really hot? I mean like, really hot? If you got like, you know, a pixie cut. Like real short and modern? I don’t know; call me crazy, I just think it would really do it for me. I know what I like, and I like two things: magic and you…and me. Be right back.”

*Curtain and Ron*

“Hello again Harry!”

“Ah! Don’t jump out at me like that! A face like that should come with a warning!”

“I’m sorry Harry, I didn’t mean to frighten-”

“I’m freaking out Ron! I’m so nervous; I don’t know how to ask your sister out. She’s too hot.”

“Oh no, that’s quite a problem!”

“Look, I just need to practice. I’ll be me and you put on this bow and pretend to be Ginny.”

“Oh a role play…” ‘Ron’ put the bow in ‘his’ hair that ‘Harry’ took out of his pocket.

“Okay, Ginny,” he cleared his throat. “Hey Ginny, how’s it going? That’s cool. Listen, I’m a man, you’re a girl, the world could end for all we know! Only a fool would wait, so come on Ginny; be my girlfriend. Be my witch.”

“I would love to Harry!”

“You would? Oh, you’ve made me the happiest man alive, Ginny! I’m so happy, I could kiss you!”

‘Ron’ and ‘Harry’ looked at each other and got closer and closer, almost nose to nose.

“Simulation complete. I’m ready now! Thank you Ron!” ‘Harry’ said.

“No problem Harry!”

*Curtain, Pansy supposed to be Ginny, but looks exactly the same as she did as Ron, bow still in hair*

“Ginny! You got that hair cut…it’s nice. I love it! Um, wait a minute. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

*Curtain, ‘Harry’ now next to ‘Ron’ looking the same as ‘Ginny’.

‘Harry’ looked at ‘Ron’.

“Hm, hold on.”

*Curtain, Ginny. ‘Harry’ grunts as he sees ‘Ginny’ and the curtain moves back again to ‘Ron’ with ‘Harry’ doing a double take and going back to ‘Ginny’ yet again.

Then the curtain moved all the way to the wall on the far side of the Common Room with two Pansy’s on either side of ‘Harry’. The Pansy’s looked exactly the same with the short red hair, bow, freckles and all. The real Harry understood that one Pansy was supposed to be ‘Ginny’ while the other was supposed to be ‘Ron’.

‘Harry’ jerkily looked between the two several times before slowly facing the audience directly, a crazed expression on his face. He took out a stick with the appearance of a wand and pointed it at the side of his temple.

“Well, Avada Kedavra!”

A bright green light flashed overhead as the curtain expanded quickly to the opposite wall, completely covering the two Pansies’ and Malfoy from view.

The audience burst out laughing with mirth and began a loud applaud. Malfoy and the two Pansies’ came out hand in hand from behind the curtain and bowed. The cheering grew louder at that. Harry cheered with them.

Blaise Zabini came rushing forward, laughter still bubbling forth from his mouth. One of the Pansy’s went further into the Common Room, heading towards the girl’s dorm.

“That was hilarious you guys! Quite ingenious! Who came up with this one?”

“That would be me,” Malfoy said. “I wrote this a while ago.”

“Gods, I haven’t laughed this hard since before the war,” Blaise said.

“You’re probably not the only one,” muttered Pansy. “I’m going to go change now, you should too Drarry.”

“As you command, Potsy.”

Draco headed for the boy’s dorm with Harry following stealthily behind him, weaving and dodging the disbursing crowd.

When they arrived at the Eighth year boy’s dorm, Draco opened the door, walked in with Harry right behind him, removed his real wand from his pocket and waved it around himself. His hair changed back to blonde, the glasses and lightning bolt mark disappeared, and the Muggle clothes became his school uniform. He then waved his wand at the door, closing and locking it.

“So, did you enjoy my little show Potter?” Malfoy suddenly asked aloud, back faced to Harry.

Harry sighed inwardly in defeat and took off his Invisibility Cloak, letting it puddle at his feet.

“How did you know I was here?”

Malfoy turned. “It would seem I’ve developed a sixth sense when it comes to you stalking me under that thing.”

“Oh. Well, um, I just wanted to give this back to you,” said Harry nervously, reaching into his back pocket, withdrawing the book, and handed it to Malfoy.

“You realise I knew you had it ever since you asked me about the Colin story, right?”

Harry gasped in shock. “Why didn’t you say something? I would have given it back to you ages ago!”

Malfoy shrugged, went over to his four poster bed and sat down, putting the book on the bedside table.

“I was curious to see if you would continue to read it, although I do feel bad that by doing so Lavender nearly broke your jaw.”

“Yeah, it hurt almost as bad as your breaking my nose did,” Harry said smiling.

Insert Awkward Turtle moment here at those words.

Harry cleared his throat and shuffled his feet. Malfoy looked at Harry, seeming to X-Ray and Heat Vision him at the same time.

“How much did you read?” asked Malfoy.

“Almost all of it. There were a couple of stories I sped read through,” answered Harry honestly.

Malfoy nodded and seem to brace himself.

“So now you know that even despite all the times I’ve beaten you up, insulted you, your friends, and your family, became a Death Eater and let other Death Eaters into Hogwarts, that this whole time I’ve secretly been in love with you, at least since I was twelve.”

“Yes. And now that I know, I’ve suddenly decided to be gay and not want to be with Ginny anymore, to forget all of those nasty things you’ve done to me, and realized my deep and profound attraction for you. We may also discover at any moment now that we’re soul mates, or that one of us has magical creature blood often with you as the Veela with feathered wings even though Veela are female and have bat-like wings and beaks like a bird, or me often depicted as a vampire, but sometimes any of the following: incubus, seraphim, or, surprisingly enough a Veela as well, despite my very black hair and very green eyes. Draco Abraxas Malfoy, can we skip the whole dating and getting to know each other thing that real people do and fuck like dogs in heat instead?”

“Fuck yes.”

They met halfway, attacking each other’s mouths like rabid wolves on the last piece of meat. Clothing was torn, scratches and bruises were made.

They fell onto the bed in a tangle of flailing limbs. They couldn’t seem to stop touching each other all over in spite of the attention their hardened cocks craved.

“Gods this feels so good!” Harry called out when he managed to wrench himself from Draco’s addicting lips.

“Oh yeah!” Draco agreed.

“One thing though before we do this. What’s with the ‘Potsy’ and ‘Drarry’ nicknames?”

“It’s your name meshed with ours. Drarry means Draco slash Harry, Potsy means Potter slash Pansy. Don’t worry, she doesn’t have the hots for you. It was in response to her finding out my love for you that caused her to come up with the name. Potsy is one I came up with in revenge.”

Harry nodded and started to wet his fingers to begin preparing Draco’s eager hole for his cock. He tried to gently ease his first knuckle when Draco moaned half in pain, half in pleasure.

“Guh, it hurts!”

“I haven’t even inserted one finger in yet!”

“What do you think this is, Harry, some cheesy romance novel where the first time fucking goes smoothly as to not to give readers blue balls or cause their suspension of disbelief to go flying out the window without magic to stop their fall?”

“No Draco, I think this is more like some crazy obsessed fangirl writing about us right now in a galaxy far, far away or maybe in an Alternate Universe and attempting to be realistic about this sex scene in what’s supposed to be a romantic comedy while using the common plot device of the lead finding the diary of the one who’s secretly in love with said lead and having the main character find out who wrote the diary who just so happens to be someone he knows well, therefore bringing them together so that they can live happily ever after, possibly ending it with a quaint epilogue with a generic ‘The end’ at the end.” Harry said all this while easing Draco’s hole open with his fingers, going as easy and painlessly as he could.

Draco couldn’t help but fuck himself on those magical fingers when they finally reached his prostate.

“That’s it. Fuck, you’re so hot, fucking yourself on my fingers. Bet you can’t wait for my big, long cock can’t you?”

“Oh yeah, oh yes. Want you Harry, need you now!” Draco exclaimed wantonly.

And almost just like in The Book of (Mostly) Lies, Harry guided his cock and shoved it in Draco as fast and hard as he could.

Draco screamed in pleasure with a small side order of pain.

“Oh yeah, fuck me Harry!”

“Uh, Draco!”

As much as he loved fucking Draco in this position what with being able to see his handsome face and all, he could tell it was still a little too painful for his blonde lover. So he temporarily removed himself from his virgin hole, flipped him over so he was on his hands and knees, and wandlessly conjured a mirror big enough to see all of them, but small enough to fit snuggly between the two bedposts that were against the wall. He then took his cock and guided it back in to Draco’s quivering hole. He grabbed Draco’s hips and resumed pounding into him.

Yet Harry wanted to feel more, so he pulled Draco up off his hands so that Draco’s back was now against his glistening chest. He gently put one hand on Draco’s throat while using the other to pump Draco’s aching erection in time with his thrusts.

“Oh fuck yes Harry! Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop!”

Their cries of ecstasy when they came rose in symphony with the headboard and posts of the bed banging against the wall with the mirror shuddering in response, but not falling off or breaking. Neither one of them cared enough to realize that they didn’t erect a Silencing Ward on the door….

*EPILOGUE*

Draco and Harry came out as a couple to the whole of Hogwarts. Curses and hexes were thrown by each of their respective friends and fan base. A few months later, their friends accepted them at face value. The next year, they graduated. They dated for five years (six according to Draco), arguing, fighting, flirting, make- up fucking, regular fucking, and all sorts of relationship-y stuff in between. They married. They adopted three children, raised them, grew old and died ancient and happy.

THE END…….

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Or is it? No, I’m just kidding…or am I? Seriously though…but which one am I being serious about? Shut up and kudos and/or bookmark this story.

**Author's Note:**

> All of the references aforementioned in this one-shot are not my own. Thank you for reading, and I hope I at least forced a half-hearted chuckle out of anyone who has read this. Thank you!


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